


Sollux Captor Isn't Dead (He's Just At College)

by Miriage



Series: In Which Dave has Abs, Karkat has a Nice Ass, Jake Wears a Binder, Dirk Has to Socialize, and John Wields the Power of Balloons [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But He Also Kinda Just Accidentally Screwed Over His College, College Student Sollux Captor, Eridan Speaks Latin, Flowers, Fluff, Grocery Store, He Calls Himself a Sadist, He's Not Really Though, Humanstuck, Italian Eridan Ampora, Korean Sollux Captor, Lies, M/M, Mentioned Dave Strider, Mentioned Karkat Vantas, Mentioned Mituna Captor - Freeform, Mentoned Aradia/Feferi, Minor Jake English/Dirk Strider, Sadist Sollux Captor, Side Story To Dave and Karkat's Ice Bath Adventures, Sollux Caught Them Making Out in the Ice Bath, Sollux is Smart, Swimmer Eridan Ampora, at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12113382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriage/pseuds/Miriage
Summary: "Your think-pan (Fuck, you meant brain. Only the dumbasses that lived next to you called it a “think-pan.” Curse you Dirk and Jake!) comes to a stuttering halt.Eridan?Eridan had sent you condolences?Eridan had actually believed that you were one hundred percent, six-feet under, dead as a doorknob, dead?“Seriously?” you ask, regrettably noting how your tongue sticks a little too much to the roof of your mouth so that you’re lisping again. “That Ampora?” "





	Sollux Captor Isn't Dead (He's Just At College)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically Sollux before and after he walked in on Dave and Karkat getting their kiss on in the ice bath.

Your name is Sollux Captor and hello you’re suddenly part of this story.

You honestly weren’t trying to be (hell your name isn’t even mentioned in this series’ title for crying out loud!) but you were back from college for a blessed four to eight days due to the tech rooms’ hardware “mysteriously” exploding (not your fault the server couldn’t handle you and your mad skills) that left your entire campus with no internet, no power, and no central heating (again, NOT YOUR FAULT…technically.) Luckily, a certain “older-than-you-age-wise-but-ironically-same-year-as-you-because-you-were-hella-fucking-smart” Dirk Strider was willing to carpool you back home….

But only to your brother’s high school.

 

(Yes, you get how weird it is that your older brother is still in high school and you, the younger brother, are in college. But just like a skateboard, you roll with it.)

 

(Or a pair of Heelys.)

 

(Or a unicycle…. Cause that technically had wheels didn’t it? Or one big wheel really.)

 

So, after you gave him (Dirk Strider) the finger (because hell you wanted to go straight home and not to the bullshittiness that was the public educational building where the toilets smelled like pot) and told him that everyone except Jake English (who was sleeping like it was the night after New Year’s in the backseat of Dirk’s shitty car, ready to be whisked off to the hotel the two fuckers were going to be staying at) knew he had a hard on _for_ Jake English (to which Dirk Strider’s face had turned pink and he promptly leaned over to smack your retreating ass….quite hard you might add), you had dragged yourself (unwillingly) through the doors of the ridiculous high school to find a certain Mituna Captor.

Then you got lost.

 

Then you got _really_ lost.

 

Because _fuck_ unlike the openness that a liberal arts college campus offered (which your smart ass had the blessing to grace even though it was at three/ four years younger than the people in your year. Get on your level all other dumb fucks!) high school was like a fucking maze.

(Okay, maybe you were the dumb fuck when it came to directions. You win this round high school….)

Hall after hall after hall of lockers later and you were still lost. There were just. So. Many. Fucking. Lockers. You stopped counting lockers when you reached one hundred. (Because one hundred was an even number. Easily divisible by two. Also your brain hurt after counting up to one hundred because physically counting out loud wasn’t like coding at all.)

(Not to mention you did the “hundred” thing for Mituna. He better thank your ass when you finally found him.)

 

However when you did finally “find something”, the thing you found was something that you honestly never thought you’d see in your entire, honey-sucking, existence you called life.

 

Long story short, you walked in on two people getting it on in what looked like a bathtub.

 

Long story even shorter, the two people just happened to be two people you knew but didn’t know knew each other.

 

Long story even shorter(er) you might have yelled out (in a Karkat-like voice) “WHAT THE FUCK?!” and caused the two lip mashers to separate.

 

Long story even shorter(er)(er), you had quickly taken five steps back, turned around, and began walking away, trying to erase what you had just seen from your mind forever (and ever and ever and ever _and ever_ because you _never_ wanted to see a wet Dave Strider and a wet Karkat Vantas getting their mooch on _ever_ again.)

 

Then (the long story finally coming to its epic conclusion) you had walked head first into someone.

 

Well, more like _he_ walked head first into _you_ because thank you puberty for giving you the height of (in the words of the non-silent Makara) “a motherfucking giant for Asian standards.”

(And yes, you are Asian. Korean actually Miss “You-Look-Chinese-Are-You-Sure-You’re-Not-Chinese-Maybe-You-Have-Some-Chinese-Blood-In-You-Because-Aren’t-All-Asians-Like-Secretly-Related-? Stupid sophomore girl.)

And that someone (who’s wet hair just got the front of your shirt well…wet) just happened to be your middle school archenemy-pseudo-bully _Eridan Ampora._

 

Fuck.

 

* * *

 

He’s as surprised as you are and he quickly lurches back and almost (fucking _almost_ ) falls over.

And when you say “fucking almost” you mean that before he _could_ go down, your shitty brain-ingrained instinct to grab things that were about to fall over and put them upright (a quality that had implanted itself ever since you knocked over a shelf in the library when you were twelve and had to spend the next three months of your life putting back all those shitty tween fictions) unfortunately kicks in and you grab him before he topples over like a Hanukkah (or was it Chanukah?) dreidel.

There’s a long awkward pause that you hate because _fuck,_ your archenemy-pseudo-bully is giving you a bug-eyed expression as if he’s just realized in his stupidly tiny head that you were still alive and that going to college didn’t automatically make you “dead.” Sure, social media wise you were “dead”, but you weren’t “dead-dead.”

(Although…. Maybe…. You _should_ fix that social media “dead” thing. Your Facebook profile picture was still the shot you and Aradia had taken when you were not-so-secretly-not-not-dating. You two had had a weird, complicated, romantic, un-romantic, then romantic again, then definitely _not_ romantic again, relationship. But you two were okay now because Aradia was now in a not-so-secretly-not-not-not-not-relationship with Feferi.)

 

(You think.)

 

(Fuck it, this is why you got off social media in the first place! Then again, maybe this is the reason why you _should_ get back on social media. Or maybe you should just make your _own_ social media. No wait, you shouldn’t do that. Last time you tried to do that you accidentally exploded your tech rooms’ hardware and caused classes to be canceled for four to eight days and then-)

(Wait…that’s why you’re here now isn’t it!? Fuck, in the end _you_ were the idiot!)

 

As if the butt-monkey of a swimmer’s idiot mind is trying to prove you right, your archenemy-pseudo-bull- (You know what? You’re just going to start using his name)  _Eridan_ says out loud the simple two-word sentence of,

 

“You’re alive?”

 

You would’ve said a deadpan “Yes” to him in return (or punch him. It’s been a long time since you punched someone who was irritating and you quite missed the feeling of closed fist to cheek. Then again, the last time you tried punching someone who annoyed you, Jake English had gotten the wrong idea, yelled “FISTICUFFS!” very loudly in your ear, and then proceeded to best you five times out of five on the carpet of your dorm’s common room. You had gotten weird looks from everybody and Dirk had videotaped the whole thing.) but you instead decide to reply in the dry, snarky, sarcastic humor that college had matured and developed in you (like a shitty piece of cheese) during your freshman year and that had been festering in the few months of your sophomore one.

Meaning you reply with a, “No I’m actually dead but I came back to haunt your stupid ass because you're the princess of all things shitty and stupid also watch where you’re going asshole.”

Granted that response had sounded…better in your head but by the time you crossed the point of no return you decided to just go with the flow of it. It seemed to work too because Eridan, looking like he _actually_ believes you and the “dead” comment, begins to literally shake in _fear_. The inner sadist in your brain cheers as you come to the realization that _god_ you could fuck this guy up in the think pan good right now if you played your cards right. (You could become his Slenderman even!)

However, it’s the way he responds with a shocked cry of terror, followed by a wrenching of his arm back and an abscond down the hall, that you realize that you _may_ have _accidentally_ mentally scarred the kid.

 

(Wait, why were you calling him kid? Weren’t you guys actually the same age? This is what college did to your brain. Fuck college.)

 

* * *

 

Eventually, you do find Mituna Captor and the two of you in metaphoric hand-in-hand reunion (that was a straight up lie. He tried to get you to give him a piggyback ride and you had attempted to suplex him into a locker. Brotherly reunifications am I right?) return back to your shitty, _wonderful_ home.

 

(God you missed this place.)

 

Mituna’s doing that “bouncing” thing again as he asks how college was, what were your classes like, did you meet any cute girls? Guys? You were still bi right? That wasn’t just a passing phase? Please tell me it wasn’t because I told everyone you were bi and I may have set up a fake Tinder profile for you and listed you as bi. Don’t worry though! That fake tinder profile got swiped all the time! People apparently thought that your middle school pictures were ugly as fuck! Not to mention that-!

You have to shove a pillow into your brother’s face so he’ll stop talking. Regrettably, this just muffles his voice and _he keeps on talking_.

 

“-I told everyone when you left that you were actually dead. No one believed me though so joke’s on me I guess. I mean maybe some people believed it but-!”

 

You remove the pillow from his face. “You told everyone I was dead?” you asked surprised because (1.) that was just sad (2.) that was also equally kinda hilarious and (3.)

 

That would explain the freak out Eridan had earlier.

 

Mituna excitedly bobs his head up and down. “Yup! Dead as a doorknob and buried six feet under in our very backyard!” Mituna says, grinning from ear to ear. Ten seconds later though, he’s frowning again.

“But you only got one condolence Sol! It’s like either everyone didn’t care or didn't believe me! Why do you have to be so good at being alive?”

 

You apologize for being so good at being alive and tell Mituna that the next time you fake died you would make sure to really sell it by disappearing off the face of the earth and relocating to an alien planet made up of bees.

“Yeah! The Land of Honey and Stingers! I like it!” Mituna yells, spraying your face in spit. He ducks before you could smack his face again with the pillow in revenge.

 

Instead, you force yourself to hold in an eye roll (you opt to give him the finger) and ask who was the one stupid idiot that sent condolences to your not dead ass. The grin seems to widen on Mituna’s face as he leans in to tell you the “Un-fucking-believable-news.”

“You are _actually_ not going to believe it Sol!” Mituna yells as his previous “grin” morphs into something that was only _slightly_ more sadistic. (What? The Captors were into spreading suffering. That was just your thing.)

 

“It was the little Ampora shit.”

 

* * *

 

Your think-pan (fuck, you meant brain. Only the dumbasses that lived next to you called it a “think-pan.” Curse you Dirk and Jake!) comes to a stuttering halt.

 

Eridan?

 

Eridan had sent you condolences?

 

Eridan had actually believed that you were one hundred percent, six-feet under, dead as a doorknob, _dead_?

 

“Seriously?” you ask, regrettably noting how your tongue sticks a little _too_ much to the roof of your mouth so that you’re lisping again. “ _That_ Ampora?”

Mituna nods excitedly. “You got a whole bunch of flowers too!” he says. “They were all yellow and red and blue and shit! I mean I would’ve preferred it if he gave us _food_ , but he seemed mighty sad when he was giving me the flowers so I decided to just let it slide!”

Mituna leans back and, struggling for a few seconds to reach his ass pocket, he slides his phone out and proceeds to show you a picture of the “grief flowers” the “not dead you” had received.

 

And fuck.

 

It actually was a “whole _fucking_ bunch of flowers.”

 

In fact, you couldn’t even see your brother under the monstrous bouquet building he was hiding behind as he posed for the camera. Hell, you could only _kinda_ see the middle fingers he was giving to said camera.

“Pretty cool right?” Mituna asks-yells.

 

You could only…nod.

 

* * *

 

 

On Saturday you find yourself starring at the honey shelf in your local super market (god you missed this shelf. This was the holy, sacred, happy shelf that you had longed to see every time you stared at the aged granola bars in your campus’ bookstore) yet your mind is still spinning from the whole “Eridan sent flowers to my supposedly dead corpse” incident. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about because…because….

Because honestly? You did not expect _him_ of all people to send flowers to your dead corpse.

 

Him sending a cactus? Believable.

 

Him sending a passive aggressive “Glad you’re dead!” note? Even more believable.

 

But flowers? Unbelievable.

 

You do that thing where you exhale heavily from your mouth (meaning that you just sighed) and take your preferable brand of honey (the one in the plastic bear that made your inner sadist smile every time you squeezed the shit out of it to get the last bit of honey) and quickly walk around the corner to the check out aisle.

And that’s where “Sollux Encounters Randos Unexpectedly And Makes Them Fall Over With His Incredible Asian Height” part two happens. And part two has _all_ the same participants as part one,

Because it’s the same Eridan Ampora that you crash into and make almost fall over.

 

And it’s the same Eridan Ampora who you catch by the arm.

 

And it’s the same Eridan Ampora who is staring at you like you had just come back from the dead.

 

(Which, at least in his mind, you had.)

 

* * *

 

Eridan quickly wrenches his arm back (again) but this time, instead of sprinting off (and screaming, like you were half-expecting him to do) he fumbles for something in his messenger bag (that had the irritating brand name “COACH” barfed all over it) and pulls out what looks like a wooden cross attached to a silver chain.

You realize only a second later that it’s a fucking _rosary._

 

Then, to your utter amazement (and slight horror) he lifts the rosary up to your face and begins to _fucking chant Latin at you._

 

And _wow_ , you have never been more embarrassed (and slightly turned on) in your entire life because, as fearful as Eridan looks (his hair matching his terrified expression of “slightly frazzled”), the Latin words are slipping gracefully from his lips as if he was one of those ancient Roman fuck ups himself.

(Wait, weren’t the Ampora’s Italian? I mean, you don’t mean to be racist of anything but the way he’s speaking right now sounds a little _too_ perfect and pretty to be picked up from the high school education system.)

(Double wait, did you just call his words “pretty”?)

(…..Well _that’s_ a kink you never imagine yourself having.)

 

It’s only after he utters his third _“Tu in pace spiritus relinquo!”_ that you decide to put him out of his misery.

 

Meaning that you take the rosary from his hand and toss it over your shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Granted, you could’ve handled the whole “I’m-not-a-ghost-please-stop-chanting-at-me-in-fucking-Latin” situation a _bit_ better because Eridan’s face turns an ashen, ghostly, _white_ after you toss his tchotchke away and you swear you can _see_ his life flash before his eyes and _wow you actually accidentally fucked up the kid are you happy now Sollux Captor? Are you?!_

(Granted, you’re not as happy as you thought you’d be.)

 

So, before he could begin screaming in English, you quickly tell him in the bluntest statements,

 

“I’m not dead.”

 

Eridan’s body vibrates like a molecule on steroids as he adamantly shakes his head. “You’re lying.” he whispers. “You’re brother told me you were dead. He told me you were d-dead so you have to be-”

You resist the urge to groan out loud (god this guy was an idiot) and cut Eridan off, telling him in an annoyed voice that your brother had “Lied with a capital ‘L’ for loser.”

 

He just stares at you in disbelief.

 

“No you’re dead.” he says, shaking his head again. “You’re here to curse me for all eternity aren’t you? You’re here to make my life a living hell aren’t you? Aren’t you Captor?!”

(Is this kid for fucking real?)

 

You theatrically roll your eyes and tell him no. You are not here to “fuck up his life” and you were definitely not dead like the enemy from one of Karkat’s horrible romcoms. You were only here because you were off from _college_ and you needed nutrients of the pollinated kind. “Because that’s where I went Ampora.” you annunciate. “I went to _college_.”

He still doesn’t seem to believe you (as his shaking is a sure give away that he’s still _fucking_ terrified) so you do another one of those mouth exhaling heavily thing again (meaning that you sighed again) as you realize that talking isn’t going to get you anywhere with this guy. So, against your better judgment, you go to plan B:

 

Physical Contact.

 

Slowly, you lift up the hand that wasn't clenched around your honey filled bear and you (slowly) stretch it towards him. (Because fuck it, you felt bad okay? Maybe you weren’t the perfect little sadist after all! Maybe you had feelings and shit!) 

Out loud you say, “Touch me,” while looking Eridan straight in his violet eyes. “Touch me and tell me I don’t _feel_ real.”

 

* * *

 

Of course Eridan automatically says no and that he is _not_ going to feel up your dead ghost palm and that he wasn’t going to be swayed by your ghostly charms at all!

(Seriously? God, this guy read _way_ too many fantasy novels)

His own hand instead moves to his bag, as if he’s going for _another_ rosary he has stashed in there (which, granted, wouldn’t surprise you one bit) so, to prevent yourself from being hit by Latin word bath part two, you quickly stop him with the one sentence you know used to rile him up and bend him to your will back in middle school and you _pray_ to all amphibious gods above it still works.

 

“You a coward then Ampora?”

 

You teasingly draw the words out ( _“Coward…”_ ) and make sure to give him a little smirk as you wave your open hand at him. “Never thought I’d see the day that an _Ampora_ would say _no_ to a challenge.” you say as smugly as you could.

Eridan face…changes after you say that and you mentally fist bump yourself because you just got him _hook, line, and mother-fucking sinker_. You watch as the stubbornness flashes through his eyes, his hand drifting away from his man bag in order to properly stare you down.

 

“Don’t test me Captor.” he snarls, that same middle school-ness you remember seeing in him years ago reigniting. “Even if there is _some_ chance you’re not dead I will-”

 

“Will what?” you ask, trying to sound very _very_ conceited (you think it works.) “Will not piss yourself in fear? Will not run away scared and screaming again?”

 

(Judging by his expression, it definitely works.)

 

“I didn’t run away scared or-!” Eridan begins but you cut him off again.

 

“Then prove it.” you say, not missing a beat. “Prove you’re not scared. Touch me Ampora. Go on, _touch._ ”

He glares at you, and then at your hand, then at you again before he slowly, with a newly formed determined expression (and a shaking wrist), raises his own hand to yours. He hesitates for a second before he inhales and, closing his eyes, grabs your hand and clenches it.

 

Hard.

 

It’s an awkward hand position to say the least (with him pretty much suffocating your hand like he was trying to choke a chicken) so you shift your fingers until they’re entwined with his and wait for him to move.

It takes ten seconds of this (dare you say it) _intimate_ contact before he opens his eyes again.

 

And you’re right there smirking at him when he does.

 

* * *

 

“Does I feel ‘dead’ to you now Ampora?” you teasingly ask, trying (and failing) to keep the sarcasm out of your voice.

Eridan gulps and looks from your face to your two tangled fingers, back to your face. The slow understanding that he was a complete and utter _idiot_ for thinking you were dead is dawning on him and an innocent type of _mortification_ is now painting itself beautifully on his face.

 

(Your inner sadist beams.)

 

You watch as he becomes redder and redder and _redder_ and you feel the smirk on your lips curl up even _more_ as you realize that you just made the little shit-bag named Eridan Ampora _blush._ You’ve seen him embarrassed before (like the many times you made fun of his Wizard-Con themed capes at school) and you’ve seen him red with rage before (like when you had “accidentally” ripped said Wizard-Con cape) but you’ve never seen him like _this_ before.

(And yes. It did make a little part of your hollow muscular organ go all _doki doki_ like you knew Dirk’s went for Jake’s.)

 

* * *

 

Your moment of “supermarket hand holding” however comes to a jarring halt as your phone (which Dirk had rigged) begins to blast that shitty rap mash up Dave had made of “Mambo No. Five” and “Shake It Off”. You curse under your breath and you (disappointingly) extract your hand from Eridan’s. A quick glance tells you that it’s Mituna calling (probably from the car in which you abandoned him in for your “quick” shopping trip that has since lasted for an hour) and a quicker guess is telling you that he wants your ass back in the automobile carriage so the two of you could go back to schooling each other at Mario Kart on the Wii U.

 

(The Switch was a luxury you were holding yourself back from until Christmas. Patience Sollux. Patience…)

 

“It’s my brother,” you tell Eridan (for some reason) as you hit the Apple equivalent to “ignore call” and shove the phone back down your pants. “He’s wondering where my not dead ass is.”

Glancing back at Eridan, you can see that he’s staring at his hand like it was a gift from the amphibious gods above and you can see that even his _ears_ are pink. And for some other reason….

 

For some reason….

 

It’s seeing that even his ears are pink that makes you smile for real. Not smirk. Not sadistically smirk.

 

Actually fucking _smile._

 

You notice the phone sticking out of his bag and (in a moment of Captor famous spontaneity) you reach down and pluck said device from its pocket (ignoring Eridan’s shout of “What do you think you’re doing-?!” coupled with his flailing hands.) Hacking into his phone (he had a four-digit password that was just his birthday. The nerd) you quickly add your number in and send yourself a message.

(Your ass vibrates in response.)

“I’ll text you.” you say, tossing the phone back at him (he stumbles to catch it.) “So you don’t, y’know, have another emotional freak out in the dairy aisle next time I see you.”

He opens his mouth to protest (or to ask you what you meant by “Next time”) but the words become lodged in his throat as you ruffle his hair and give him a two-fingered salute of awesomeness before absconding the fuck out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Your name is Sollux Captor and yeah, you did just flirt with your middle school archenemy-pseudo-bully in the grocery store. And, judging by the angry texts you got from him during your entire car ride back home,

 

You’re going to be doing a _whole_ lot more of it too.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> God I missed writing for this series. I had this part lying in my computer for the past pretty much year. And thinking about, Dave and Karkat here are still not dating! And Dirk and Jake here haven't even been introduced! And I just made everything else more complicated by adding these two idiots into the mix!? FUCK! I LOVE THIS SERIES SO MUCH!!!


End file.
